i become such a monster when i miss you
by clarembees
Summary: he's more volatile than usual when they're not together - dean/emma


_a/n: ramenreignss didn't want to be alone in writing demma fics, so i'm throwing my hat into the ring – see what /i did there? /ha ha ha. this is for her._

**~*~i become such a monster when i miss you~*~**

* * *

"_You don't want anyone to know?" Her big eyes flashed briefly with hurt, and he wanted to punch the wall she was currently pressed up against. _

_She was biting her lip, looking every bit the innocent blonde that she was, as she stared at him through the velvet of her lashes. She looked too good to be true. Definitely too good for him. He was dark and rough edges as sharp as broken glass. He should walk away now, but he knew what she tasted like [heaven]. He knew how she felt underneath him [soft as silk]. He knew the flavor of her mouth [bubblegum]. What her tan skin smelled like [peaches]._

_And fuck, he liked it. All of it._

_Too much, to be honest._

_But he wasn't going to tell her any of that. Hell no._

"_Fuck," He cursed, backing away and harshly pushing his fingers through his messy curls. "Look, I'm not saying I don't want people to know cause I'm embarrassed or some shit. Cause that's the last thing I am. I've had all kinds of random chicks and ring rats parade out of my room, okay? But you're not like that. It's just..." He sighed, he hated talking. Why couldn't they just make out? And then he'd slip his hand under her shirt, feeling the smooth skin of her stomach [fuck, he liked that] and they would stumble into his room, fall onto the bed, she'd moan his name [deaaaaan] and then he'd sink into her perfect warmth. Why couldn't they do that?_

"_This – what's happening here – it ain't nobody else's business, y'know?" He manages to get out. "Who the hell needs to know?"_

"_No one," Her voice is small, too small. "I guess."_

"_Exactly." He agrees, quick to accept her answer because he sucks at talking, but he doesn't suck at making her scream, and that's what he **really** wants._

_And that's what he does. _

_He thinks he'll get to keep doing it, until he wakes up the next morning with the note on his pillow, instead of her head of golden hair, and if it wasn't for Seth banging on his door a few minutes later, he would've trashed the hotel room._

* * *

"Do you think he's okay?" Seth bit his lip worriedly as he and Roman watched Dean – with no tape on his wrists and knuckles – pummel a punching bag at the gym in the hotel they were staying at.

It was about three weeks after he had found the note from Emma, telling him that she couldn't keep up with their "arrangement" as she put it. Since then, he'd trashed a few hotel rooms after emptying out the mini bar, busted his knuckles more than few times, and had even been called into Stephanie McMahon's office and been told to quote "sort yourself out, dean. you're a valuable asset to this company, both as part of the shield and as a singular entity, don't screw that up. rollins and reigns could become a permanent tag team so fast it'll make your head spin, and then where will you be? back in cincinatti?" unquote.

He at least knew better than to not talk back to the billionaire princess.

And he wasn't going to let some [pretty] weird Australian chick who couldn't dance fuck up his career.

He wasn't _that_ guy. The one who turned into a teenage girl and wallowed or whatever. Fuck that.

There were plenty of girls who could take Emma's place in his bed. Hell, there were hundreds – if not thousands – of them inside every arena he went to.

"I don't know, man." The large Samoan answered honestly, patting the two-toned man on the shoulder as he made his way toward the third member of their faction.

Stopping the bag's momentum with his hand, Roman wasn't surprised when Dean shot daggers at him. Pushing his messy hair out of his eyes, he barked, "What the fuck, Rome?"

"I should be asking you _that_. What the hell's going on with you? And don't bull shit me. I've known you long enough to know when you're bull shitting me."

"Nuthin.' Now, let go of the bag."

"We're not gonna braid each other's hair and drink wine like chicks, okay? I just wanna know if you're all right."

"I'm fine."

"You're a shitty liar. But you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. Just know Seth and I are here. That's what brothers are for."

* * *

The Shield always got hyped for a match against 3MB. How could they not? The men in their tactical vests couldn't take the three men in their ripped up jeans with patches of skulls and leather vests seriously.

But almost immediately Roman and Seth sensed this was different for Dean. He and Drew McIntyre started the match, and as usual, Dean threw a flurry of punches. He got McIntyre into their corner and continued punching, even getting a few kicks in as the referee kept telling him, "ambrose, out of the corner. out of the corner, ambrose."

And when Seth held out his hand for a tag, there wasn't a let up in Dean's punching.

Eventually, the ref got the two wrestlers out of the corner and with Dean glaring at McIntyre in a way that could freeze glass, Seth was tagged in as a limping McIntyre managed to reach Heath Slater to tag him in.

"What the fuck was that?" Roman practically growled through gritted teeth.

"He thinks he can fucking put his hands on her." Dean grumbled, bouncing on the heels of his feet. "Who the fuck does he think he is? Just going over there and touching her?"

Roman blinked in confusion. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Dean knew he'd already said too much, and he blamed the adrenaline and the searing anger that was boiling in his veins from his slip of the tongue.

"Don't worry about it. We've got a match to win."

* * *

It wasn't unusual to see Paige in the gorilla area, gleaming silver Divas Championship belt slung over her shoulder, even if she didn't have a match. It was corny as hell, but she liked being there when Seth came through the curtain after his matches. Sweat was usually an unattractive smell, but somehow the two-toned superstar smelled his best after matches.

It was _almost_ as intoxicating as the way he would smell when they were between the sheets. Or on the floor. Or in the backseat of either the car she rented with Emma or the one he rented with Dean and Roman.

Almost always, she'd greet her man first, pulling him by the collar of his tactical vest and whispering in his ear, "nice reverse sto into the turnbuckles; show me later?"

Tonight, however, was different. As soon as the three men walked through the curtain, she stomped in the direction of Dean, her soft features twisted in anger. "You tosser!" She shouted, pushing the taller man in the chest with as much force as she could. "Who the fuck do you think you are?! You can't go around beating up every guy who so much as looks at E..." Before she could say _her_ name, Dean lunged forward, covering Paige's mouth with his hand.

He didn't expect her to bite his palm, making him yell, "What the fuck!" as his hand slipped away. "Your crazy ass girlfriend just bit me!" He yelped, glowering in Seth's direction.

"You're lucky that's _all_ I did, Ambrose. After what you did to Emma, you should be on your knees thanking God you still have balls."

Seth and Roman exchanged looks of confusion as their eyes volleyed between Paige and Dean. They felt like they stepped into an alternate universe.

"This ain't any of your business, Bevis." Dean glowered at the raven haired Brit.

"You're one hell of a nutter, if you think this isn't any of my business. Emma's my best friend, of course this is my business. You made her cry, and I should make you cry, fucking bastard."

Dean swore he felt his heart literally stop in his chest. The anger that had been boiling ever since he saw that douche McIntyre push Emma's hair behind her ears and lean in close as he made her laugh and caused her trademark beaming smile to appear, suddenly turned to ice. He felt sick; as if there was bile rising in his throat, which was significantly tight, like a vice, and that he was going to throw up.

He made Emma cry.

Fuck.

He punched the wall and kicked several of the tables, but before he could do any more damage or draw attention of other superstars and divas, Seth wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him away from anything he could punch or kick.

"Calm the fuck down." The Iowan hissed. "Maddox could be lurking around like the snake he is, just waiting to tell Kane or Stephanie or Triple H that you've lost it. You already were called into Stephanie's office once. I know you don't want to be again. Cool it, man."

Dean wrenched himself out of Seth's grasp and stormed off down the hallway. He needed to find Emma. Now.

* * *

"Dean made Emma cry?" Seth questioned his girlfriend, disbelief clear on his handsome features. "Since when does Dean even talk to Emma?"

"I know you're not _that_ daft. How can you be? You're the Architect of The Shield." Paige shook her head. "You didn't notice them sneaking away? How sometimes Dean wouldn't ride with you and Emma wouldn't ride with me? Or how he was constantly checking out her ass when she would do her dance?"

"For real?" Roman blinked.

"You're such boys." Paige griped, sighing heavily. "They were sneaking around, I caught them in a closet when we were in San Jose for Smackdown a few months ago. Santino couldn't find Emma before the start of their match with Fandango and Layla, so I told him I would look for her. Eventually I found her in a closet near the divas locker room with Dean, who I saw more of than I ever wanted to, thank you very much. Though," Her lush lips quirked devilishly. "I can't blame Emma for going after him."

"Oh, really?" Seth was affronted, his arms crossed over his chest.

"You're already the girl in this relationship, Rollins, you don't need to cement your position." She reached over, trying to pinch his cheek, but he swatted her hand away and insisted, glaring, "No, I'm not!"

Uncrossing his arms, Paige, slipped her small hand into his large one and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. "Yes, you are." She teased, eyes sparkling bright. "And I wouldn't have it any other way. Who else is going to remember anniversaries and birthdays?"

"I am _not_ the girl! You're the girl! You with the boobs and the hips and belly button ring! You are the girl!"

"It's so cute that you think that. Adorable, really."

Seth growled and before Paige could blink she was suddenly tossed over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. Her fists banged on his back as she screeched, "Put me down, you caveman! Put me down!"

"Oh, now I'm a caveman? I thought I was the girl in this relationship?"

Roman shook his head, laughing to himself, as he watched the pair walk down the hallway; Paige still beating on Seth's back.

* * *

As Dean stalked down the hallway, determined to find Emma, for reasons he couldn't explain – even to himself – he stopped when he heard her voice. He could see her, no longer dressed in her ring gear, but jeans and a t-shirt, showing just a hint of her smooth stomach, and _no_, his heart didn't speed up and his palms were _not_ sweaty.

"Oh." She murmured, sounding dejected, her eyes drifting from McIntyre's to her feet. "Um... If you don't mind me asking, could you please tell me why you're suddenly not interested? You seemed very much so before your match against The Shield when we were backstage, and before that when we worked out together. Did I..." She bit down on her lip, voice small and tinged with worry. "Do something?"

McIntyre touched her cheek and it took all Dean had not to rush to her and push the bastard's hand away. Where did he get off touching her? Didn't he know anything about personal space? And since when were they even friends or whatever?

"You should talk to Ambrose." McIntyre grumbled, flexing his jaw, Dean's lips twisted in satisfaction; he'd landed a hard punch to his jaw, and the pain in his hand afterward was worth it.

"Dean?" Emma blinked. "Why should I talk to him?"

"If I didn't know better, he was beating the living shit out of me because he saw us backstage. I could be wrong," The tall wrestler shrugged. "But I don't think so. You guys were pretty close for a little bit, weren't you? Santino mentioned seeing you guys around the arenas. Ziggler saw you at one of the hotels in St. Louis, I think, too."

"A little bit." Emma nodded, heart caught in her throat.

"You're great, really great, I just... I don't need to get caught up in drama, you know?"

"I understand."

Tears stung at the blonde's eyes and she struggled to blink them back. She didn't necessarily want to be with Drew, but he was nice and if she couldn't have Dean what was she supposed to do? Be alone for the rest of her life? Keep waiting for him?

Wiping the lone tear that managed to escape, she nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard the familiar gravel tone, "I thought he'd never leave."

* * *

Dean didn't know what the fuck he was going to say once he approached Emma. This wasn't like when he was in the ring and had a mic in his hand. He knew what to do then. He could command the mic with the best of them. It was his trademark. He was the mouthpiece, Roman the powerhouse and Seth the brains or architect.

But this wasn't talking trash or building up his teammates by saying how they were going to run the yard and damn anyone who was stupid enough to get in their way.

This wasn't getting in Bray Wyatt's face or taunting Damien Sandow.

No, this was talking about his feelings. Fuck, he _hated_ this shit.

Why couldn't she just understand that he beat up McIntyre within an inch of his life because he wanted her for himself? Because that douche wasn't good enough for her? Not that _he_ necessarily was, because he wasn't. He wasn't good enough for anyone. Let alone someone like her. With her bouncy personality and how she liked bubbles and to do that weird dance she did.

But all of that didn't stop him from wanting [liking] her. And, _God_, did he want her.

After her the randoms who were flashing him their boobs backstage and the ring rats hanging around were nothing. He couldn't even look at them. But if he was horny enough, and most of the time he was, he came up with this new rule; no blondes. Just brunettes and redheads.

No other blonde could compare to the one in front of him now.

"I can't wait forever." She broke the silence her voice small and feeble, shoulders shaking slightly.

Tears. He could see tears glistening in her big eyes, and he thought he might throw up. Or punch something. Maybe even both.

"I suck at this shit, okay?" He was practically tearing his hair out, his fingers were sifting through the messy curls so harshly. "It's the only thing I suck at; talking about feelings and junk. I beat up McIntyre cause he put his hands on you, and if we weren't in the ring, it would've been worse. I wanted to beat his brains in. I'm not gonna grab a megaphone and run around the arena screaming that i'm into you or whatever, okay? I'm not gonna get a giant banner or buy you some stupid, lame piece of jewelry like Seth did for Paige. I'm not gonna say 'fuck it,' and kiss you backstage like Roman did with Renee after he finally grew a set and stopped being a pussy about her. Isn't it enough that I want you?"

"You said not to tell anyone, that you didn't want anyone to know." She choked back a sob, and his stomach twisted into barbwire. "And I didn't, but after Paige found us in that closet, she started talking about how if Seth knew he'd want to do double dates, have movie nights in our rooms, go around the different cities we go to for Raw and Smackdown together, maybe get drinks and things, and I..." Her lips quivered. "I didn't realize how much I wanted _that_, to have what she has with Seth and what I see Brie Bella have with Daniel Bryan and her sister with John Cena. Even Roman and Renee come into the arenas holding hands. I thought I could just have sex with you, but I should've known better. I'm not the just sex type. I was falling. From before you even kissed me, to be honest."

"I hate that stuff. Hand holding, kissing, buying shit and going on dates. But..." He sighed, briefly biting in the inside of his lip. "I guess I could try it or whatever." He mumbled the last part, eyes focused on his black combat boots and not her pretty face.

"Really?" She was beaming, that damn smile on her face, stretched so wide he thought her face would split in two, which would be a shame; it was a nice [pretty] face.

"Don't get all excited. You'll probably regret it in the end. I told you, I suck at feelings and I hate all that mushy lovey dovey shit."

"We'll see."

Dean arched a brow at Emma's confidence, her doe eyes sparkling with assurance. "What the hell does that mean? We'll see?"

Emma, boldly, looped her arm through his and stood on her tip-toes to kiss his cheek, loudly, as she murmured, "You've never done any of that mushy lovey dovey stuff with me, so maybe with me you won't hate it so much."

Dean didn't say anything, but he didn't move away from her or remove her arm from where it was wrapped around his. They walked all the way to the Shield's locker room like that. And he was thankful no one saw them.

But little did he know, Emma was right, as their relationship progressed, he found he didn't hate that mushy lovey dovey shit as much with her.

Not that he was ever going to tell her.


End file.
